


With a Little Help

by semperama



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: First Time, M/M, Shaving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-17
Updated: 2014-08-17
Packaged: 2018-02-13 11:59:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2149932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/semperama/pseuds/semperama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fill for the Pinto Kink Meme. Prompt: Shaving</p>
            </blockquote>





	With a Little Help

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rabidchild67](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rabidchild67/gifts).



Whoever decided that Chris Pine should star in action movies clearly never took into account how much of a klutz he is. The man has a beautiful face and a body that belongs in paintings, but he is about as graceful as a baby giraffe. He fell out of or knocked over the captain’s chair on the Trek set more than once, he injured his pinky filming This Means War, he injured his pinky _again_ filming Jack Ryan. And although, against all odds, they made it all the way through filming the third Star Trek movie without incident, Chris still managed to break _two_ of his fingers _on the press tour_. He broke them running into a door. _Running into a door_. Zach wouldn’t even believe it if he hadn’t been there to see it.

He is pretty sure he saw a few tears too, but he is keeping that to himself. They were wiped away quickly, before the handlers called a cab to quietly take Chris to the nearest ER to get his fingers wrapped up. 

Zach feels bad for the poor guy, but it’s a little comical, he has to admit. Chris generally doesn’t deal too well with being in pain or at all incapacitated. He is definitely a whiner. He is the kind of person who moans and groans like he’s dying when he only has a mild head cold, who demands to have aloe vera rubbed on him five times a day when he gets a sunburn, and who cusses a blue streak for at least five minutes when he stubs his toe. While the camera is trained on him during interviews, Chris is the consummate professional, but the minute they are done, he’s cradling his hand close to his body, making faces, asking people to help him carry things, and generally being a pain in the ass.

Zach finds it mostly amusing and endearing though, and he isn’t alone in that. Chris is the only person he has ever met that is so genuine that he can even get away with being a diva without anyone hating his guts for it. Zoe treats him like a baby bird, John teases him a lot but still carries his coffee when he can, and even Orci gets a little paternal, which is just….weird.

In light of all this, it isn’t surprising when, on their first night in London, Zach gets a call at 11 pm and Chris wants a favor.

“Hey, man, my publicist is telling me I need to shave for the premier, but I can’t with my damn fingers in a splint.”

“Looks like it’s time for you to learn to be ambidextrous,” Zach says dryly.

“Seriously, Zach. She said I look like a slob.”

Chris _has_ been a little on the scruffy side. He hasn’t shaved since the incident, and he has gone way past artful stubble at this point.

“What do you want me to do about it?” Zach asks, even though he already knows the answer.

“Can you come to my room and give me a hand?”

Of course he will end up giving in. Saying no to Chris has always been damn near impossible. But he lets out a long, put-upon sigh anyway. “You are such a baby, you know that?”

“How about _you_ try shaving with two fingers taped to a stick. What if I ended up cutting my jugular, huh? Then how would you feel?”

“If you managed to slice open your jugular with a safety razor, I’d feel like you deserve a Darwin Award.”

Chris makes a frustrated sound, and Zach chuckles in spite of himself. “Okay, okay. Chill, Chris. I’ll be right over.”

It’s late, and Zach wasn’t planning on doing anything but watching a little television before falling asleep, so he isn’t exactly presentable. He has to pull on a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants and comb his fingers through his hair before he makes his way down the hall to Chris’s room.

Chris doesn’t look too happy when he opens the door. Come to think of it, he hasn’t looked too happy in a long time. Zach doesn’t think he has seen him really smile since the wrap party, and that might have been because he had two or three beers too many. The thought makes him feel a little sad, but he attempts to shake it off as he steps into the room, nudging Chris out of the way with his shoulder and then slapping him on the back as he passes him.

“Alright, Pine, let’s commence with the grooming so I can get some sleep tonight.”

Chris grumbles indistinctly and then follows Zach into the bathroom, where his razor and shaving cream are already sitting out on the sink.

“Better take your shirt off,” Zach instructs. “And sit on the toilet, I guess.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier if I stand? Then you won’t have to bend over.”

“Yeah, but it’ll be harder for me to see. Just sit.”

Chris shrugs and then tugs his t-shirt off over his head before putting the toilet lid down and sitting on top of it. Zach turns on the sink and lets the water run hot, then soaks a washcloth. When he turns back to look at Chris, he has his chin tilted up, his eyes trained on Zach’s face, and he looks so compliant and trusting and that it causes an unexpected flutter in Zach’s stomach. He isn’t sure Chris has ever looked at him like this before. He isn’t sure _anyone_ has ever looked at him like this before, like they are putting themselves completely in his hands.

Zach bites down on his bottom lip for a moment, then presses the damp washcloth to Chris’s jaw and neck, moistening the skin and the stubble.

“Why didn’t you just let your beard grow out again before the tour?” Zach asks, mostly to fill the silence.

Chris shrugs. When he speaks, his voice is muffled by the cloth. “Not really sure. Just thought I’d go without it for a while. I’m definitely second-guessing that decision now though.” He sighs. “The next couple movies I’m doing require me to be clean-shaven though, so I might as well stay in the habit.”

“Not sure getting me to do this for you counts as staying in the habit,” Zach says with a grin.

“Fuck you, dude.” Chris shoots back, completely without any trace of malice. “It’s not my fault my fingers are broken.”

“Yeah, I totally saw that door just jump right into your path. So rude. Inanimate objects have no manners these days.”

Zach pulls the washcloth away in time to see the war between amusement and indignation in Chris’s expression. Eventually amusement wins out, and his mouth splits into a self-deprecating grin and he rolls his eyes.

“So I’m prone to injury. Still not my fault.”

Zach heaves a sigh. “You’re lucky you’re so pretty.”

Chris raises his hand to flip Zach off, then realizes a moment too late that his middle finger is out of commision, and his shoulders slump in almost comical disappointment.

Zach chuckles and turns back to throw the washcloth in the sink and pick up the shaving cream. He pops off the cap, gives it a shake, and then squirts a pile into his hand.

“Might want to tuck your lips in,” he says quietly. “Don’t want to get this in your mouth.”

Chris does as he is told, and Zach starts slathering the shaving cream across his jaw, down his neck, over his top lip, seeking out the stubbly patches with the tips of his fingers so he can be sure he covers it all. Chris sits perfectly still, without needing to be told, and despite the fact that he is clearly annoyed with the whole situation, docility seems to be radiating out of his very pores. Zach gets the impression that he could position Chris like a mannequin right now and he would just roll with it. More than likely it’s just that he doesn’t want to end up getting cut by the man who is going to be holding the razor in a few seconds, but knowing that doesn’t keep Zach’s heart from speeding up a little bit.

He turns back to the sink and rinses off his hands, then shakes them off and dries them on one of the towels hanging up behind Chris’s head. Then, he picks up the razor and examines it. It’s a run-of-the-mill drug store brand, which almost makes him want to cringe. Chris has such sensitive skin that he should probably be using something a little more appropriate, but Zach bites his tongue, figuring now is not really the time to bring that up.

He turns back to Chris’s upturned face and stabilizes it with one hand, his fingers resting over what would be meld points if they were in the Star Trek universe. What would he find out if he could read Chris’s thoughts right now, Zach wonders? His face is so unreadable. His eyes are locked on Zach’s face, his arms relaxed at his sides, his chest rising and falling evenly. Zach presses a little on his forehead, experimentally, and he tilts his head up a little more, his neck stretching prettily.

“Don’t move,” Zach says, his voice a little rough. Chris blinks slowly, and Zach takes that to be the equivalent to a nod. He sets the razor ro Chris’s top lip.

At first, he focuses just on the job in front of him. He finishes the space between Chris’s nose and mouth in a few quick strokes, then searches with his thumb for any spots he might have missed while he reaches sideways with the other hand to rinse the blade off in the sink. It is a little odd, running his finger over Chris’s smooth skin. He has to trace right around his lip to search for rough patches, and it’s strangely intimate, and Zach isn’t sure if he is imagining that Chris’s breath is coming out a little faster against the heel of his hand. He makes a quick second pass to clean up the last few traces of prickliness, then chuckles at how weird Chris looks with the lower half of his face covered in shaving cream, except for the bare patch of skin where his mustache should be.

“I don’t know, man. Maybe I should just leave you like this.”

“You wouldn’t,” Chris says with a glare, abandoning his weird lips-sucked-in face. 

“I wouldn’t,” Zach confirms, his expression indulgent. He rests his fingers against Chris’s forehead and cheekbone again and forces the smile off his face. “I told you not to move.”

Chris sighs through his nose, but he sucks his lips in again so Zach can work carefully around his bottom lip, repeating the process of tracing with his thumb and making a second pass to clean up the rough spots. Once that is done, Chris can at least relax his mouth. The fact that his lips are now red and plump doesn’t do wonders for Zach’s heart rate though.

“How come you don’t like to be clean-shaven?” Zach asks, again to fill the silence. He starts in on the left side of Chris’s face, against his sideburn, and drags the razor down to his jaw in a slow, careful stroke.

“My skin,” Chris says, like it should be obvious.

Zach frowns as he rinses the blade, then starts removing another stripe of shaving cream and stubble. “What about it?”

“Come on, dude. You can see the acne scars. Your fingers are right on top of them.”

Zach is pushing the fingers of his free hand across the smooth, freshly shaved bits of Chris’s skin, rubbing against the grain, again searching for missed spots and places that might need a second pass. He does feel the pockmarks Chris is talking about, and he won’t deny it, but he doesn’t think they are much to be ashamed of as Chris seems to think. Given the chance, Zach would run his fingers over this skin all day.

“Oh, c’mon. Face like yours, you think anyone’s paying attention to a few acne scars?”

“When my face is fifty feet high? Probably.”

Zach pauses with the razor hovering over Chris’s skin so he can snort and shake his head. “I promise you, they aren’t. They’re all too busy swooning.”

“Whatever, man,” Chris says, sounding not at all convinced. Zach gives up arguing and gets back on task, shaving stripe after stripe until he has reached the left side of Chris’s mouth. He rinses the blade again, then makes a quick second pass, seeking with his fingers then following with the razor, until he is sure it’s all smooth and stubble-free.

Zach gently turns Chris’s head a little bit, then starts in on the right side of his face. This time he lets the silence stretch, focusing instead on the slow uncovering of Chris’s skin. He takes his time gliding his fingers across the patches he has shaved, enjoying the texture as much as he is searching for missed spots. The truth is, he could have gotten this over with about a hundred times faster than he is, but he is enjoying it too much now, and he isn’t sure he is hiding it all that well either. His fingers are more caressing than clinical. His heart is thudding loud enough in his ears that he can hardly imagine that Chris can’t hear it too. His breathing sounds too loud as it echoes off the floor-to-ceiling tile.

It isn’t until he is about to start on Chris’s neck that Zach starts to think maybe he isn’t alone in this. With his thumb on Chris’s chin and his fingers tucked under his ear, he pushes upward, encouraging him to tilt his head back further, and Chris complies with such overt submission, holding Zach’s gaze from beneath heavy-lidded eyes, that Zach nearly swears out loud and drops the razor.

“Chris,” he says, a warning in his tone, though he isn’t quite sure yet what he is warning him about.

“Yeah?” Chris breathes.

“Just...just behave yourself. You’re going to make me cut you.”

“Am I not behaving?”

Fuck, was this _premeditated_? Is Chris seducing him? If so, he is doing it with such aplomb that Zach can’t even find it in himself to be anything but impressed. At this point, he isn’t even sure if he would care if Chris had run into that door on purpose, just to set all of this up. 

“Stop talking,” Zach says, then smiles in satisfaction when Chris doesn’t so much as arch an eyebrow at him in response, just closes his mouth and stares passively into Zach’s eyes.

He shaves Chris’s neck in silence, and bit more quickly than he has done the rest of him. He slows down around his Adam’s apple, making sure he doesn’t cut Chris as he removes the hair from every nook and cranny. Every time he looks up to Chris’s face, he is looking back at him, watching him with those gorgeous, too-blue eyes. Zach almost wants to ask him to close them, especially since he knows he would obey, but the electricity he sees in them is too addictive. Zach can’t stop himself from continuing to sneak little peeks. 

Finally, he makes the last stroke, removing a last bit of fuzz from under Chris’s right ear, and then he rinses off the blade one last time and sets it down next to the sink, where it was when he came in. Then, he picks up the washcloth, holds it under the warm water for a moment, wrings it out, and uses it to wipe the last traces of shaving cream off of Chris’s face. 

When he is done, the cloth tossed back in the sink, Chris’s skin clean and bare, neither of them move for a beat.

“Go on,” Zach says, finally. “Check. Make sure I didn’t miss any spots.”

Chris hesitates, then lifts his uninjured hand and runs it over his jaw, then his neck, both with the grain and against it. He hums his satisfaction, then smiles. “Feels good to me. Thanks, Zach.”

Zach nods slightly and starts to take a step backward, intending to put some distance between them before he does anything stupid, but Chris stops him by reaching out and grabbing him by the wrist. 

“You check?”

It’s very much a question, not a command, despite the tight grip Chris has on him, and that is what makes it so hard to deny. It’s so hard to deny Chris anything, especially something Zach wants so badly himself.

He steps in close, closer than he was before, between Chris’s knees, and extricates his wrist from Chris’s grip so he can bring his fingers to his face. There is nothing like the feeling of smooth skin right after a shave, but usually the skin Zach is feeling is his own, and this is...very different. He strokes the backs of his fingers down one side of Chris’s face, then the other, then drags his index finger right across his chin. He traces his lips with his thumb, slowly, watching they way his mouth falls open a bit as if by reflex. Unable to resist the temptation, Zach presses the pad of this thumb right against that full bottom lip. Chris’s eyelashes flutter, and his tongue darts out to wet his lips. When it makes contact with Zach’s skin, they both gasp.

“I want you,” Chris says. His candidness is unexpected, but not at all unwelcome. Zach is no shrinking violet, but Chris is his friend, his _good_ friend, and that is not a line that you just barrel over without forethought.

Zach steps even closer, forcing Chris to tilt his head almost all the way back to look up at him, and he pushes his fingers into Chris’s hair. 

“I thought you were going to behave?” Zach murmurs, testing the waters. 

“I am,” Chris says. “I will.”

Zach’s heart is thundering in his ribcage, and his thoughts are in snarls. He is not prepared for deciding what he wants to do with Chris. It isn’t something he lets himself think about, not for very long anyway, and not with any sort of seriousness. He has known for a long time that Chris isn’t perfectly straight, but the timing has never been right, and the complications it might cause with filming have always loomed over them. But the timing certainly seems right now. Or as right as it is going to get.

“What do you want?” Zach asks, trying hard not to sound too tentative.

“Everything,” Chris breathes back. “Anything.”

And just like that, Zach knows he is going to give it to him, whatever he wants. He can’t imagine doing anything else. He wants to take care of Chris, wants to make him feel good, cared for, _happy_.

“Alright.” Zach gets a hand around Chris’s bicep and drags him to his feet. “Come here.”

He leads them both backward out of the bathroom and then over to the bed, where he coaxes Chris into laying down on his back. Chris tucks his injured hand against his stomach out of habit, and Zach’s eyes soften a little, then grow dark when they skim down his body and catch sight of the tenting at the front of his sweats.

It’s tempting to order Chris to strip for him, but he doesn’t want to ruin the lovely obedience he has been displaying by making him grumble about his broken fingers. Instead, Zach climbs onto the bed and hooks his fingers into the top of Chris’s sweatpants himself, then drags them down slowly and kicks them off the end of the bed. Then, he circles his fingers around Chris’s ankles and slowly skims them up his calves, gently kneading the muscles as he goes.

“Feels good,” Chris purrs, and when Zach looks up at him, his eyes are closed, his face a little flushed like maybe the unexpected attention embarrasses him. Zach grins and scoots forward between Chris’s outstretched legs so he can run his hands up over his knees, up his thighs, then skirt around his erection and settle them on his hips, over the band of his briefs.

Chris’s eyes open then, and he reaches out with his good hand to paw at Zach’s chest, then clutch at his arm, trying to drag him closer.

“Kiss me?” he asks, his voice barely a murmur. Zach has to suppress a full-body shudder. If he had taken any time to imagine what Chris would be like in bed (and he definitely hasn’t, thank you very much) this isn’t what he would have pictured. He would have expected him to be a little bossy, or quiet but passionate, but this odd mixture of acquiescence and vulnerability cuts through him like a hot knife, burning and searing and making it very hard to maintain control.

Zach moves up Chris’s body and takes his face in both hands, his thumbs stroking over now-velvety cheekbones, and then kisses him gently, just a tease of a kiss. The softness of Chris’s skin unravels some of his control though, as does the little sigh of satisfaction that escapes Chris’s mouth, so Zach dives in a little deeper, lavishing attention first on Chris’s top lip, then his bottom lip, savoring the sensation of his smooth skin and the fact that there is no stubble to rasp against his face. After a few moments he pulls away a little bit and slides his nose along the side of Chris’s face, then rubs their cheeks together. Chris gasps as Zach’s five o’clock shadow scratches across his sensitive skin, and Zach takes a moment to wonder if he will be this responsive once his hands and mouth start exploring the rest of him.

There is only one way to find out.

He latches his mouth onto Chris’s earlobe at the same time that he pushes a hand into his briefs and grips him tight, and he is rewarded with a soft sound of surprise.

“God, yes, please, Zach.” Maybe Chris will prove to be a little bossy after all. Zach smirks into his neck and then sucks gently at his pulse point. No marks allowed, but that doesn’t mean he can’t have a little fun, see if he can get Chris to make that sound again.

Chris’s back arches off the bed for a moment, and then he thrusts upward with his hips, trying in vain to push himself through Zach’s fist. He is rock hard and twitching already, and Zach realizes suddenly that this isn’t going to last long, not for either of them. There is too much tension, and it has been building for too long.

Chris’s good hand moves impatiently under Zach’s shirt, and Zach gets the picture and sits up a bit so he can pull it up and off. His sweatpants follow, then his briefs, then Chris’s briefs, and then he spreads himself out over Chris and presses their bodies together from chest to thigh, letting out a low groan when he grinds himself into the V of Chris’s hip. 

“You haven’t been able to jerk off with that hand of yours, have you?” Zach insinuates a hand between their bodies and encircles Chris again, stroking him slowly and then giving him a gentle squeeze.

“Not...really,” Chris says breathlessly. “Tried with my left hand, but…”

“But it’s not the same.” Chris shakes his head. “Is that really why you wanted me to come over? To help you out with this?”

Chris shakes his head, then exhales a soft _ahh_ when Zach starts jacking him in earnest, setting up a slow, steady rhythm.

“But you hoped?”

“I hoped you wanted me too.” There is that honesty again. Zach has to lean in to kiss him in an attempt to avoid thinking about how it makes his chest ache.

Chris doesn’t seem to have the presence of mind to do much more than pant against Zach’s mouth, but Zach is happy to do all the work, nipping at Chris’s lips and sucking at his tongue. He shifts his hips and lines their cocks up, takes them both in one hand and strokes them together.

“I do,” Zach finds himself murmuring. “I do want you.” As if it isn’t obvious by now. And yet Chris sighs like he didn’t know.

Zach gives up moving his hand and just rocks his hips so he is rutting against Chris, the head of his cock butting against Chris’s which each thrust. He can feel Chris’s thighs trembling against his, and his uninjured fingers are curling into the sheets, and it’s watching Chris come undone, more than anything else, that has him right on the edge. 

“Look at me,” Zachs says, and Chris does, fixing his eyes on Zach’s and holding his gaze. “God, you’re so good, Chris. You’re so fucking good.”

Chris doesn’t look away even as he starts spilling over Zach’s hand, over his own stomach. His mouth falls open, and he moans, and the muscles in his shoulders and arms bunch and shudder as he twists the sheets in his hands, but he holds Zach’s gaze the whole time.

“Come on, Zach,” he pants. “Want to see you come.”

And because Zach can’t refuse him anything, he does, a stunned groan punching its way out of his mouth as his orgasm ripples through him. It shouldn’t be this good, not just from rutting against each other like horny teenagers, but Zach feels overwhelmed by the soft, satisfied look in Chris’s eyes and the rough sound of his voice as he murmurs _yeah, baby, yeah_ and he large hand that settles in the small of his back, petting him through it. When he is finally spent, he collapses on top of Chris, pushing his face into his neck and breathing like a marathon runner.

Chris’s hand moves to tangle in the hair at the back of Zach’s head, and they just lay there for long moments in silence, breathing in tandem. 

Finally, Zach speaks. “Just answer me one thing.” Chris makes an affirmative sound. “Did you break your fingers on purpose?”

Chris’s chuckle rumbles through Zach’s chest and slides warmly down his spine. “No, Zach. I’m not quite _that_ desperate. I just, umm, used a bad situation to my advantage.”

“You could have just said something like a normal person, you know.”

Zach pushes himself up on one elbow in time to see Chris’s grin.

“But where’s the fun in that?”


End file.
